


Never Gone

by JantoJones



Series: Brief Briefings [42]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-15
Updated: 2016-11-15
Packaged: 2018-08-31 05:53:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8566477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JantoJones/pseuds/JantoJones
Summary: This was originally written in February 2015 in commemoration of Svetlanacat4, following her passing.





	

Illya Kuryakin never called in sick, so as soon as Napoleon got word of it, he was straight on the telephone to his partner. After three failed attempts, he abandoned his paperwork and headed for Illya’s apartment. Once there, he had to rap out his coded knock twice before the door was opened. Napoleon hadn’t known what to expect, but the Illya which stood in front of him, was not the ice cool man he usually was. The skin around his eyes was bright red, and the whites were tinged pink. It could have been caused by anything, but Napoleon could tell it was from hours of crying.

“You’re not sick, are you?”

Illya shook his head sadly and beckoned his friend in. As he entered, Napoleon saw a selection of photographs on the table. Each picture featured one or more of a group of four people, one of whom was a grinning Illya. During one of their drunken mission-went-wrong evenings, the Russian had shown Napoleon the photos and explained that they were his friends from his time in France. As well as Illya, there were two other men called Cristophe and Jules. The only woman in the group was Sylvaine. According to Illya, she was warm and kind, and possessed an exceptionally sharp wit. He’d claimed that her humour was, in part, responsible for thawing his frozen, soviet heart. Napoleon looked to Illya, who handed a letter to him. He’d received it the previous day when he’d returned from work. The senior agent read the words which had caused his friend such distress. 

Sylvaine had passed away. The letter had been sent by Jules, and he explained how she had been ill for some time, but in the end lost her fight. Laying the paper on the table, Napoleon pulled Illya into a tight embrace.

“You know, Tovarisch, she’ll never truly be gone while her friends hold her in their hearts.”

Illya pulled out of the embrace and smiled.

“Thank you, my friend,” he replied, his voice tight with emotion. “She will never be forgotten.”


End file.
